Carina, darling, Someday you will want to know why. People will ask you: What was I like? Was I weird? Forgetting that you were only three and cannot be expected to remember your father. I cannot write to you because… Continue Reading
Back in Auburndale Elementary, Ms. Ponte was my first-grade homeroom teacher. She was so elderly she had probably crossed the Red Sea with Moses. The problem with her was she was falling apart right before my eyes. If you’ve ever… Continue Reading
Something in the refrigerator smells sour-oniony and off, she realizes as the door shuts. She’ll have to take care of it tomorrow. Not now. Now that the door is shut, she cannot open it again. She doesn’t want to start… Continue Reading
Today, Ash Wednesday, has been declared No Smoking Day to help those giving up for Lent. There is no Mass in our little hamlet because the local priest looks after seventeen parishes. At reception I check in as a visitor… Continue Reading
Daphne Mills, the sexton at St. Elijah’s Church, parked her white Ford van in front of the lych-gate. She opened the rear doors of the vehicle and manoeuvred a wheelbarrow out the back. Inside it she placed large swatches of… Continue Reading
She always thought of brown sugar when her feet sank just an inch or so into warm, slightly damp sand. This sand, this beach was no different. He had asked her to go for a walk and her parents had… Continue Reading
Grace knew it was inevitable. The second her husband returned home from his deployment, his eyes tired and voice dull, it was clear it was only a matter of time. Joshua spoke then, but his words scarcely reached her. She… Continue Reading
Like most married couples, Jay and Clover Brewster did not always see eye to eye. But upon one point, there was complete agreement: they just had to get off the moon. The couple sat quietly at the Sector 7-1 Relocation… Continue Reading
Martha, the nurse wakes me up at the crack of dawn. She helps me to the bathroom. She’s holding the IV and I’m dragging the two cheese sticks I’ve got for legs. Every step feels like it’s going to be… Continue Reading
The butterflies were in Anna’s head, not in her stomach — a swarm of glorious, golden images she couldn’t seem to suppress, even when she told herself to count sheep, or recite nonsense rhymes, to try and lull herself to… Continue Reading